Harry Potter and the Disappearing Spork
by CatClawz
Summary: Discontinued? Harry was having wonderful summer until-WhoshBAM! The spork is gone! And my God, Moody, what a secret to keep! Episode 3 is up!
1. Episodes I & II

A/N: I started this in class ages ago. I've been adding to it by little bits. It was supposed to be this insane wacky thing that I could just add to with whatever mood I wanted. But funny. However, it's not extraordinaryily funny which is why humor is its second category. Enjoy :)  
  
Disclaimer: The impossibly sad fact of the matter is that I DO NOT own anything having to do with Harry Potter. I have made up a cat. And the sporks can speak for themselves.  
  
Episode I  
  
Harry Potter needed a spork that summer. It was quite a difficult time, and a spork would have solved all his problems. Unfortunately, to get a spork he would have to go all the way to a certain café in London. That was proving to be a trying experience.  
  
It had been a wonderful day in Privet Drive until Harry Potter discovered his horrible problem. Aunt Petunia had been baking yummy bran muffins (for Dudley, of course) that morning when an odd, long haired, grey and white cat had made off with the spork. The cat picked the spork up in its mouth from where it was hidden in plain sight on the front doorstep up against the bricks of the house. Harry watched open-mouthed from the upstairs bathroom window (still wet from his shower) as the ugly beast stalked off with it. Harry dropped to his knees in shock. He dragged himself over to the sink and pulled himself up to look in the mirror.  
  
His face was dead white under his black hair. The spork.it was gone!  
  
Harry couldn't believe it. Without the spork everything would start going wrong. He couldn't bear to think what his friends or Lupin would say. (Dumbledore didn't even bear thinking about.) He would be in deep, deep trouble. The spork.meant.everything.  
  
To Be Continued-  
  
In the next episode: Harry makes a trip to London with his cousin and certain members of the wizarding community make a shocking discovery.  
  
Episode II  
  
It took Harry Potter 10 minutes to drag himself to his bedroom and even longer to get dressed. One phrase continued to echo endlessly through his mind, no matter how much he tried to shut it out. The spork is gone.the spork is gone.  
  
As he wrenched the comb through his hair staring at his green-eyed reflection in the wardrobe mirror another thought came to him. I must get the spork back.or find another. The thought sounded good in his head.  
  
***  
  
Four members of the wizarding community sat around a table in a gloomy little room without windows. Two torches burned in brackets on the wall, casting little light on the group. A shock of red hair glinted in the torchlight as one of the room's occupants gave a tremendous yawn.  
  
"Keep your mouth shut, you're flinging spit!" growled Alastor Moody holding up a hand to shield his good eye.  
  
"Sorry," mumbled Ron, looking terrified.  
  
"Calm down, Moody, we're almost done," rumbled Kingsley Shacklebolt. "We're all tired, let's just finish this."  
  
"Here's the last three rolls," said Ginny, pulling three parchment scrolls out of a long bag and setting them on the table.  
  
For three quarters of an hour there was complete silence in the room except for the sratching of quills and the occasional sigh of a tired reader.  
  
Finally Kingsley pushed his chair away from the table and leaned back. "Well now, we can all go home."  
  
"And good ridance," growled Moody, his wooden leg banging on the floor as he got to his feet. "I've got to get home and finish some things. You'll see that these get to Dumbledore, Shacklebolt?" he said with a nod to the papers.  
  
"That I will," said Kingsley. "And make sure that these two get to bed."  
  
Moody gave a growl of agreement and thumped out of the room.  
  
Ron, leaning back for a huge yawn, noticed something laying on the floor. "What's that?"  
  
"What's what?" asked Kingsley. Ron picked up something that looked like a dragon leather Muggle date book.  
  
"This. I guess Moody dropped it." Ron flipped it open. It opened to the present week in August. There was something written on the day of the eighth. Ron peered closer at it and then dropped the book in shock. He stared at his hands as if they had been biten.  
  
"What is it?" Kingsley said, jumping out of his seat. "I wouldn't put it past Moody to have an anti-theft spell on it."  
  
Ron looked up at him, his face dead white. "It's.it's."  
  
"Come on, Ron. Sit down, and tell us what happened," Kingsley said bracingly, leading him back to his chair.  
  
"It's.on the.two days from now," Ron gasped out, "it's Moody's birthday!"  
  
Kingsley leaned quickly away from Ron as if he had been bitten or as if he were afraid of catching some contagious disease. There was a look of horror on his face. Ginny, who was also dead white, jumped in shock and dropped all twenty quills she was holding.  
  
"What should we do?" asked Ron, his face now turning grey.  
  
"We call a meeting of the Order," said Kingsley suddenly stern and resolute. "All but one of the order that is."  
  
***  
  
On the edge of Surrey, Harry Potter sat in a car next to his cousin, Dudley Dursley. The car was speeding toward London, speeding towards the new spork.  
  
Next Episode: A café in London-will it have SPORKS?! And there will be a thrown together meeting of the Order.  
  
A/N: The crazy thing is, after I wrote about the cat, this odd, white and gray colored cat showed up at a neighbors (they own him, and he's got some brown.) I think some of this story was inspired by my brother and some of his friends, who had some sort of spork brethren(--but not with that word). Thankx monkey-boy. 


	2. Episode III

Author's Note: This is not nearly as crazy/funny as I hoped, but it will work. I wish someone would read it, but oh well. (oh yeah, *'s mean italics)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any part HP although I have made a few characters up to complement the existing ones. :D  
  
Episode III  
  
Harry Potter walked through the door of If You've Lost It Café. There was a bustle inside. Wizards and nonwizards filled almost all the corners and were making all the noise. Except for the sounds coming from the back. It sounded as if dishes were being found and dropped.  
  
Harry walked up to the counter. Dudley was outside, probably in an arcade. As Harry walked up to the counter a woman with dark frizzy hair tied back and an apron on stepped up behind it.  
  
"Ahh, Harry Potter," she said, recognizing him and leaning on the high counter," what can we do for you today? Something to eat? On the house, of course."  
  
"No, Jezell, actually I—"Harry paused as a customer came up behind him. It was a youngish man carrying an empty tray. (In the Lost It Café you could generally pay either before or after you ate.) The man exchanged pleasantries with Jezell as she totaled up his bill. Harry knew whom the café served, but he was still surprised to hear the price.  
  
"Right you are, Jezell," the man said. "Here we go, one Sickle and seven Knuts. And have a very good day."  
  
"You too," said Jezell, waving after him. "Now Harry, what is it you wanted?"  
  
"Well, actually..." Harry leaned closer, "*I lost the spork.* "  
  
Jezell just blinked at him. Then she looked disgusted. "Ya know, kid," she said, "that's a really sick joke."  
  
"*I'm not joking,*" Harry whispered. "*It was taken!*"  
  
"Oh my God," said Jezell turning white. She grabbed his arm and towed him to an empty room. "Sit down, and tell me what you know."  
  
Harry sank into the chair she charmed for him. He suddenly felt really tired, and kind of sick. The look Jezell was giving him made his lunch play Quidditch in his stomach. "Well," he started, swallowing just a little. "This morning—"  
  
"When?" Jezell asked.  
  
"Uh...about two hours ago. I was looking out the window—"  
  
"Which window? In which room?"  
  
"Uh, the bathroom window."  
  
"How were your feet placed? How much of your hair was standing up?"  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"Stupid boy! This is important! If you aren't observant of these things, Spoons could overcome us all!"  
  
Harry stared at her, undeniably and unashamedly scared. "Am I...supposed to know what that means?" he asked cautiously, not wanting any of his body parts rearranged.  
  
"Of course you—oh wait, you're still in school. No. No you're not. Forget you ever heard it! What else happened?"  
  
"Well, I was looking out the window and this, this really weird looking cat walked up; it was all white and grey. Anyway, the cat just walked over to where the spork was hidden, picked it up in its teeth and walked away." Harry sort of trailed off and stared dazedly at the wall, reliving the past morning's horrific events.  
  
"Well, why didn't you go after it?!" Jezell shouted at him.  
  
"Are you mental?!" Harry half shouted back. "I was only wearing a towel and my glasses!"  
  
Jezell opened her mouth to scold some more, but Harry beat her to it. "Besides, if I had followed it, I would have had to run down the stairs and outside, and it probably would have disappeared by then anyway! Furthermore, do you have any idea how much skin would be left on me by this point if Aunt Petunia had caught me outside in nothing but a towel and glasses?!"  
  
Jezell let out her breath. "You're right," she admitted grudgingly. "So, that just leaves us with what to do next."  
  
"That's easy," said Harry. "Give me a new spork and—" Harry saw Jezell smile and shake her head sadly.  
  
"It's not that simple, lad," she said. "We can't just get a new spork and have it work like the other. That is the truest spork ever made; you can't put magic like that into silverware nowadays."  
  
"But, but," Harry stammered.  
  
"But nothing, boy. We have to get the true spork back. Correction—you have to get the true spork back." She stabbed a finger into his chest. "And until you do, three things will happen. First, we have to give you a decoy that you can put in its place so that anyone checking won't know the original's gone. Second, we have to make sure no one but a choice few know of the spork's disappearance. Lastly, as the spork's guardian your life will suck until the spork is recovered. You will have horrific nightmares and times during the day when you're not quite sure where you are or whether you're in two places at once. This is because the spork will be trying to tell you where it is, and...how it feels. This *should* help you locate it."  
  
Harry stared at her, completely speechless. He could not think of a single word in English.  
  
"Come with me to the kitchen," Jezell said, pulling him out of the chair. "We'll get another spork and you can hide it in the same place the true spork was hidden. Oh, and then I suppose I'll contact...well, Lupin, and Dumbledore, I don't know, probably Evan Pern."  
  
Harry was trying very hard to stay on his feet. He would be dead soon, he knew it. His life was flashing before his eyes. "But this is If You've Lost It Café," he got out. "The spork *has* to be here!"  
  
"Nope, sorry kid," said Jezell chuckling a little, "it doesn't work that way. Besides, are you sure that's what the name means?" she asked with a wicked gleam in her eye.  
  
Harry didn't bother answering; the world was swimming in and out of focus. Really, this was a very painful way to die. Couldn't someone just perform the killing curse on him? Or maybe "Acio spork."  
  
"Oh, no," said Jezell, opening the big kitchen doors, "a summoning spell won't work on it, it's got too much magic." Harry blinked at her, then realized he had spoken aloud.  
  
Jezell was rifling through a metal drawer filled with eating utensils. She pulled out a spork, but it was speckled with bright pink paint. She threw it onto a countertop. She pulled out another, but this one was speckled with orange paint. She threw it onto the table with the first. She pulled out a third, but this one could barely be mistaken for a spork. It was very...melted looking. Jezell handled this one very carefully and aimed very carefully for the large trash can. The spork-thing stuck in the plastic side. (It was to become a legend in coming days; it didn't fall off for six years.)  
  
The next spork Jezell came up with had no paint and was shaped like a normal spork. She looked the spork up and down, then pressed it into Harry's palm. "This one will be the decoy. Now go find your cousin and get home. This needs to be hidden, and I have things I need to do today."  
  
Harry found himself towed out of the kitchen and through the café. The next thing he knew, the outside door had been closed behind him, and he was standing on a London sidewalk with a silver spork in his hand. He stuck the spork in his pocket and went to find his cousin.  
  
**Next Episode: The Order makes quick and desperate plans late that same night—meanwhile Harry is caught in the throes of dreaming.  
  
~~~ Hahaha---I've had lots of ideas for Harry's dreaming. I need to work to on cranking out my junk faster. 


End file.
